


Trying To Get It Right

by gala_apples



Series: The Loverboy Diet [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arguing, Bullying, Dom/sub, Homophobic Language, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Making Up, Subdrop, Urban Fantasy, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being back at school sucks. What sucks more is everyone Michael's having sex with thinking they know everything about his sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying To Get It Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Michael emancipated from emotionally abusive and intolerant parents. I have purposely done zero research on his RL family and siblings, because that's my personal RPF line in the sand. I don't even know their names. Anything I've written about them is surely not true. This is seconded about everyone else's families.
> 
> Everyone's above the age of consent in this fic, but there are some high school/college relationships, and it's implied this relationship has gone on a while.
> 
> **This fic has a time lapse. Michael is back at school after his suspension. Some of the students don't like that he's back. Hatespeech and bullying is involved.**

It’s fourth period and Michael probably shouldn’t be eating his lunch right now. After all, he’s got a spare next period. But not only is he hungry, having been too anxious to eat Jack’s breakfast earlier, he’s also happy to take a ten minute break from the population of Juno Bailey. The scratched and graffitied bathroom walls might not the best, nicest scenery but it’s better than the alternative. A certain kind of person takes phys ed as an elective after three years of mandatory running, jumping, and throwing. That kind of person isn’t exactly happy to have a gay queer rights activist in their locker room.

He’s on his last bite of sandwich when the door of his stall is knocked on. Michael’s about to caustically point out that there are five other stalls, all free, when he looks down and sees the sneakers. Gavin’s very particular about his sneakers. He lets the empty baggie fall to the ground as he stands and twists the lock open.

“The fuck are you doing? I’m not wearing a journeyman talisman, how the fuck’d you even find me?”

“You’re not bloody Waldo,” Gavin replies. His green polo shirt contrasts horribly with the dark orange paint of the metal walls surrounding them. “You weren’t in phys ed. This is the closest bathroom to the gymnasium.”

“So that’s question two. Question one still applies. The fuck are you doing?”

“Got out of class. Wanted to check on you.”

Michael smirks. “Why Gavino, it’s almost like you care about me and shit.”

Gavin’s expression is far more thunderous than amused. “Everyone at this school is a douchey douchbaggy mong. You’re the only bloody person I care about.”

“Ray goes here too,” Michael points out even as he engulfs Gav in a bear of a hug. The guy seems to need it.

“Everyone is a douchebag, exceptions for people I’ve stuck my dick in.”

Michael snorts a laugh in Gav’s ear. “Great fuckin’ exclusion factor.” He pats his boi’s ass a few times then pulls away. “So I’m fine. You’ve had a chance to rant. Now fuck off and let me finish my lunch. I’m not skipping, Eccers just thinks I’m dropping a load.”

“You could eat at lunch tomorrow. We don’t have to sit with Mark and Tina and them.”

Lunch was awkward. The thing about Ray, previously unknown by Michael, is that he has friends. Gavin didn’t say anything about it in the days of him being alone with Ray as Michael had to stay at home. Michael’s not sure if Ray was keeping Gav to himself at the time and only now his friends have laid counterclaim, or Gavin didn’t think it would be an issue so no need to pre-warn. They weren’t assholes, they were just clearly expecting Michael to make a scene of some kind.

Michael shakes his head. “No matter where we ate I’d still have to bolt for the bathroom and pray to unicorn Jesus that I didn’t run across someone who had the same sandwich on the way. This is less risky.”

“I don’t think it’s very sanitary.”

“I’m eating where people piss and shit and touch handles before washing their hands. Of course it’s not fucking sanitary.”

“But it’s less risky. I get it. I’ll figure something out.” Gavin’s gaze gets hazy for a moment and Michael knows he’s in journeyman land. Fuck only knows what kind of solutions he’s starting to create. Shit, Michael doesn’t even know what exactly Gav’s decided the problem is. Then Gavin comes back, like flicking a switch. “You’re such a good guy. Meet me before you head for work. I want a kiss. A proper PDA to right irritate everyone.”

“I’m not going to work today. If I have to see one more person today I’m going to fucking snap.” Michael’s got a spare next period, and thank god he’s already scheduled using it to catch up on a Chemistry test because he cannot handle an hour in the library or the caf or on the green with other students. Gavin is right about one thing; everyone sucks.

“Can top you there. I’m not going home today. Least not in normal fashion. I got a detention for throwing a book at someone.”

Michael’s not sure if he’s more surprised or delighted. Gavin’s not usually that sort of guy, but if Gav’s been hearing the kind of comments Michael’s been, a hurled book is totally justified. There’s also a distinct touch of wanting to fucking facepalm. “Really? Not even a charm, just plain physical violence?”

“Not even a spell to make sure I was accurate. I was though. Clocked Sam Donner in the head. He went down.”

“You’re kind of the best, you asshole.”

Gavin grins. “Thanks, my boi!” He comes into the stall for a hug, and yeah, Michael should be eating his orange as quickly as he can and running back to the gymnasium for awful fucking volleyball before Eccers starts to downgrade his participation grade. But that can wait, for at least a minute or two. For now this is more important.

***

Last period should be one of Michael’s better. Textiles was nearly fun, despite Jenna’s existence. Ray claimed the sewing machine and stool beside Michael, and they struggled for half the class to get their machines threaded together. But woods is _woods_ , and Ms OConnell is just about the only teacher Michael doesn’t hate. It should be good.

Last period’s the worst. By fucking far.

At first there’s the glow of Ms OConnell being impressed about how much he knows about alder. But that only lasts for so long before the muttering that’s been following him all day starts creeping in again. Everyone’s got a fucking opinion, and two weeks ago Michael would have said that Juno Bailey had the average amount of acceptance for a public school in a democratic city in a republican state. Now that he’s not just a gay kid, he’s the gay kid that made a scene, he knows the population make up for what it is.

And then it escalates. Three lettermen jackets surround him- Michael wants to say football but he’s not sure- left flank, right flank, and one right in front of him. Since his ass is against a wide table, unless he reverse vaults it he’s not going anywhere fast.

“Hey, 201.”

“We made you a present while you were gone.”

“We wanted to help.”

The only thing in Michael’s mind is telling them to fuck off. Unfortunately Ms OConnell is helping someone figure out the lathe. Since most of the people in the class are stupid enough to shred their fingers, she’s pretty focused on him. Thus Oliver, Nick and Damien have no reason to wander back to their own projects, and Michael’s fucking pinned. If he says what he wants and can’t get away he’s going to get hit again. That Geoff -and probably Gavin now- is able to heal him isn’t the point. The more people that hit him the more people think they can. Michael can’t get into that cycle.

“So we thought, why’s this fag trying to smear his nastiness all over everyone?”

“Then we realised. You’re just exploding with it.”

“You don’t know how to bottle up your fag urges.”

“We thought we could help.”

Something’s slammed into his hands. Breaking eye contact could be dangerous. Not looking at whatever they’re so fucking pleased about it probably worse. Michael steels his face and looks down. It’s a crudely made wooden dildo. Fucking ironically enough, it was probably made by holding a piece of two by four to the lathe.

“The next time you’re leaking your faggotry everywhere just plug yourself with this and you’ll be fine.” 

In a perfect world Michael would hit them all in the head with a plank, so hard that their inevitable CTE sets in a decade early and they can’t play in college. In this world he’d barely have time to get the first shot in before they caved in anything happening to protrude, like his nose or balls or elbow. In a perfect world everyone would hate the jocks for harassing a hex victim. In this world they’re all upstanding students and things would only get worse if people knew Michael was hexed. In a perfect world they’d get expelled for harassment, whether or not he struck them. In the real world he’s been unsuspended for less than a day and no one who’s watching would be on his side.

It’s the difference between himself and Gavin. Gav can change his world. Michael doesn’t have that skill set. So it’s with extreme fucking reluctance that he just stands there as they mock him a little bit more trying to get a good response. The only real way he can stand up for himself is to not react to their bullshit. 

Finally they fuck off and leave him alone. Michael chucks the dildo in scrap wood box and sits down with his graphing paper. His room at Jack’s is pretty barren, still, and there’s enough time left in the year to make a bookcase.

***

For the second time in one day a magician knows where to find him. When Michael exits out the back of Juno Bailey -more like flees- the first thing he sees is Jack’s car. It’s idling beside the bus stop, the man inside totally indifferent to the swarm of a hundred teen bus riders glaring at him.

Michael throws himself into the front seat and slams the door. So what if it’s a bit harder than necessary? Jack’s car can fucking handle it, and if it can’t he can fucking afford to fix it. “You don’t have to drive me. You’re not my dad.”

“Damn straight I’m not. Did Ryan used to pick you up when he was in senior year, in the morning?” Jack asks, merging into the steady stream of traffic.

“Yeah.”

“So let me be your boyfriend who’s free after school.” Michael decides to let it go. If Jack really wants the honor and responsibility of carting his ass places, he can go ahead. After a beat of Jack waiting to see if he’s going to bitch more, the redhead continues. “Gavin texted me.”

“You mean he texted about not getting picked up and happened to mention me? Or he specifically said-”

“He said what the fuck’s the point in being a master if we can’t figure out a way to send you into a safe environment, by any means necessary. And also now you’re so upset that you’re skipping work and you never do that. Then he summed up with ‘pick him up or I swear to Christ, threatening pause’. So here I am.”

“So he told you everything about my shitty day then.” Besides the woods class incident, of course. Michael’s not stupid enough to tell Gavin that. His boi would instantly hex the jock assholes, and while morally Michael’s totally fine with that, logistically Gavin would most likely be implicated. Michael didn’t come back to school only for one of his team to be expelled.

Jack shrugs. “The more complicated things are the more we need honest communication. Even if it’s just shouting. You wanna shout?”

“Not really.” This is going to be his new norm, Michael knows. Getting pissed about it now means getting pissed every day and that’ll just give him an ulcer. Granted, one of his magicians might be able to spell away an ulcer, but it’s better to just avoid the situation. 

“You bailing on work, or did you find someone to cover you?” Jack asks. It’s a good fucking question. Michael could screw himself a whole lot less if he just got someone to take his shift. Otherwise one of the assistant managers is gonna get pissy at him, and he’ll have to just stand there and take it. He’s had enough of that at school already, never mind the future landscape of the same.

After doing a bit of seat dancing to get his phone out of his pocket, Michael types in Lindsay’s number. She picks up after two rings. To hell with pleasant greetings, Michael asks what he has to. “Can you work my shift today? Are you already working?”

“I’m not, and I can. Don’t you need the rent money though?” 

“Things have changed a fucking bunch, and it’s not my top priority. So will you?”

“I thought can implied will, but whatever. Yeah, I can do your shift. Go build a log cabin, or rescue a dog.”

Michael snorts into the phone. “Pretty sure no one in their right mind would let me near a chainsaw right now. No one likes a six-o-clock news massacre.”

“Except the politico-media complex,” Jack mutters.

“Yeah, you don't sound happy,” Lindsay agrees. “You wanna see a movie like last time? For distraction? I promise I won't make out with you then demand monogamy."

Even as irritated as he is, Michael's clear headed enough to see that Lindsay's throwing herself under the bus. "That's not what you did. You would have been fine with a spider web style. It was me who was a little bitch and couldn't handle that."

"Yeah, okay. Movie?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Lemme get back to you. I'm on my way to a boyfriend's."

"Fuck the aggression out sex?"

Michael can't deny it. It's the only thing that sounds good right now.

Contrary to his talk with Lindsay, it doesn't work out like that. Through no fault of his own, even. Michael totally waits for the right time. It’s difficult because he doesn’t know Jack’s preferred route yet. It’s possible there could be something more suitable later, but if there’s not he’s screwed himself. So he waits for the first non-busy road. It’s a residential street, but maybe it’s aged out of school age kids because no one is drifting home at a little after 3:30.

“Pull over.”

“What,” Jack half chuckles.

“Pull over!” 

Jack takes him more seriously the second time. He does a bit of parallel parking and turns the car off. The second he does Michael unbuckles his seat belt and shifts in his seat.

“I want to blow you.”

“What?”

“I’m going to unless you tell me to stop,” Michael continues. He’s already halfway to adjusted, face in Jack’s lap.

"Stop. I'm not into hatesex."

The hell? Michael abandons the position for the moment. He thought he and Jack were good. Team Same House. Why the fuck would he think a blowie’s hatesex? "Dude, I don't hate you. You know-"

Jack interrupts him. "Hating anything sex. If someone's in a vile mood I don't find that hot."

"So it's gotta be all rose petal shit? That's what you're saying? Because it didn't look that way when-"

"Putting words in people's mouths makes you an asshole. Of course I'm not into vanilla. But you have to do shit with a clear head or it can get dangerous. And angry tunnel vision is as much an altered state as drunk. So murder a thousand people in GTA, then we'll fuck."

Still seems dumb to him, but whatever. Michael can respect Jack’s stance. He’s got other boyfriends who don’t have a problem with it.

***

Ryan, inexplicably, has fallen on the Jack side of the equation. It’s fucking bullshit. They’ve never had a problem before. Gavin in a mood though; that’s his fuckin’ saviour. And Gavin’s definitely in a mood. Gavin practically kicks the door down post detention, Ray a calmer shadow behind him.

They’re earlier than they should be. Geoff hasn’t even left to pick Gavin up yet. There’s no way the timing works. Unless...

“You’re here early.”

Ray starts to explain. “He decided-”

Gavin interrupts viciously. “Fuck detention! I don’t deserve it. I’m not doing it.”

“Thanks for giving me shit to do tomorrow, asshole,” Geoff bitches. “You know they’re going to call me tomorrow.”

“They can eat knobs. They can eat sixty seven knobs. Everyone can eat shit. Michael you want to wrestle?"

"Yeah boi!" Not only will it get out his last traces of aggression -and all of Gavin's, probably- half the time a sweet wrestling sesh turns into sex. At this point Michael'd just like to get laid.

“Shouldn’t he be changing jeans?” Ray asks.

“He never has before.” Either Gavin’s magic ingredients can’t be damaged by crushing, or the pockets are impervious to smashing. Michael punches Gavin in the hip to prove it. Gavin pushes him back. It’s delicious.

Geoff puts a hand on the small of his back and shoves so Michael stumbles. Judging by Gavin tripping beside him he’s gotten the same treatment. “Go do it in the bedroom boys.”

Gavin attempts to leer, which is really more funny than sensual. “Gonna join?”

“When the fists stop flying I probably won’t be the only one.”

The gentleness is going to have to wait. Michael’s not feeling it, and he knows Gavin isn’t either. He grabs Gav by the wrist just on the edge of a bruising grip and starts to take him down the hall. Gavin’s room or Geoff’s it doesn’t really matter. Michael’d be fucking stunned if they didn’t all end up in it before the hour’s up.

They don’t make it to the bedroom. They’re only a few feet down the hall when Gavin’s patience is worn through and he leaps. Michael slams into the drywall, momentum bounce-sliding him down. Luckily he gets a good elbow shot in and brings Gavin down with him. Just wouldn’t be right otherwise.

For the next countless minutes they grapple. Gavin’s faster, slicker. Michael’s more powerful. It’s the perfect match, it makes for endless bouts. One time in Ryan’s dorm a spat over who got the bean bag chair ended in a wrestling match that lasted almost forty five minutes. In the end it was Caleb who stopped them, worried about their overexerted panting. This time their spectators care less. In fact Michael’s not even sure if Geoff and Jack are watching. Ryan at least has a view of the floor they’re grappling on. Ray’s even closer, he’s sitting crosslegged on the floor. But he’s definitely not about to Caleb it. He’s not even close to concerned. He’s into it. Michael can tell because he’s got the lens of his phone facing them. At least he does during one glance over. It’s hard to pay attention to what Ray’s doing when Gavin’s pinching the part of his belly that makes him writhe with unwanted ticklishness.

Michael’s not sure what Ray’s filming. From the waist up Gavin’s got a lock on him; a great wrestling move, athletic style, not TV soap opera. From the waist down it’s a lot more like the start of a porno. No grapple is off limits when it comes to floor wrestling, not even distraction via hand between legs. Michael defies anyone to go through that and not be hard.

The longer they go, the more Gavin starts to come out the victor. Gavin’s got him pinned. The only point to Michael this match is the hold he’s got on Gavin’s wrists. He just can’t think of the next move. Probably something with leverage, but his brain isn’t really thinking about it.

“Michael, get up.”

“No,” Michael protests. He doesn’t want to. He’s all up under his boi, Gavin’s not letting him move. Why would he want to?

Gavin doesn’t wait for Michael to do anything though. He just wrenches his hands away and stands up. “There’s no lube in the hallway. Go.”

Michael goes. He doesn’t need to have sex. The wrestling was enough to make his head crystal clear. But Gavin wants this. Michael can give Gavin what he wants.

For the same reason Michael won’t start to strip until Gavin tells him to. Gavin won, it’s only fair. For all he knows Gavin wants filthy, partially clothed rutting. He was into that a week and a half ago, the day Ray lost his bottoming virginity. He made Michael fill his jeans without once touching bare dick. Only when Gavin says “hurry up” with a gesture does Michael unzip his pants. He drops his clothes in a pile on Geoff’s gorgeous blue rug, imported from Iraq, and waits for the next thing his winner demands.

“I pinned you, I’m going to do it again now.” Michael doesn’t think about struggling as Gavin bares him down to the bed. “Cross your arms behind your back and lay on them.”

Michael does. It’s not the most comfortable, but he doesn’t care. Gavin won and it’s what Gavin wants.

“You’re gonna keep them there. If I see your hands I’m gonna stop fucking you.”

“Harsh,” Ray comments.

“Michael wants it. Don’t you?”

Instead of using stupid words, Michael uses his legs to pull Gavin in towards him. Without moving his hands.

“Excellent,” Gavin says. Except then he slithers out of Michael’s grip. That seems less excellent.

Gavin gives one of his legs to Ray. Ray immediately hikes it up so Michael’s spread and anyone can see him. Gavin and Ray, of course. But any second one of his college boys could come down the hallway to join and the first thing they’d see is Michael’s ass. How can Michael be concerned though, be any shade of embarrassed or wary, when Gavin and Ray seem so happy?

Michael hears the spitting noise before he sees it. He’s not watching Gavin’s hands. He’s pretty sure of what Gavin’s going to do, he doesn’t need visual confirmation. And if by some chance he’s wrong, he trusts Gavin to come up with something better. Instead Michael’s watching the way Ray’s scanning his body like it’s a Zelda puzzle he hasn’t figured out. He’s even got the cute gamer bite going. The wet noise is cue to look back at Gav. He’s coating his fingers with saliva and Michael’s ass clenches instinctively. On nothing, unfortunately, but only for now.

Ray’s brow furrows a little. “Dude, do you want me to find you the lube?”

“Michael can take this. Can’t you, my Michael?”

He can. He’s not sure he’d say he couldn’t even if he couldn’t. The way his mind, his body feels like flawless diamond- it’s like he could take anything.

The spit’s evaporated before long but Michael’s body knows how to handle this. How to want it. Gavin’s got three half dry fingers in him and Michael’s cock is hard against his belly and Ray’s watching them like it’s someone executing an impossible combo and jesus fuck-

“Gavin?” It comes out more whimpery than he usually is. Michael can hear the tone, he just can’t bring himself to care. Gavin’s stopping. Gavin’s pulling out. Gavin is _standing up_ and Michael isn’t going to cry, but that might be more because Ray’s hand is steady on his ribcage than because he’s handling the separation well.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not really. I just think Geoff’d like to see this.” Gavin kisses Ray, quick and dirty, and then leaves the room. 

Ray stretches out on his side and starts running his fingertips lightly down Michael’s thigh. “Vav’s got a plan, I think. But I bet he wants you to stay hard for it.”

Gavin doesn’t just bring back Geoff. All three that were left behind walk in. Geoff’s naked and Jack’s only wearing boxers so something was happening in the living room. Michael’s excited. They’ve hooked up in a lot of combinations in the last week, but this is the first six in a room. Gavin is great.

“What do you think? Who wants what where?”

Geoff crosses his impossibly hot tattooed arms. Michael spent most of their first time wanting to lick them all over. The urge hasn’t decreased. “You want my opinion? Gavin, you’re an idiot. You didn’t establish safewords.”

Michael’s crystal clear arousal threatens to start cracking. Why is Geoff talking shit instead of just crawling into bed to start fucking him? It doesn’t make sense. 

He’s expecting someone to ask what the hell a safeword is. Or at least why they’d need one now. That’s for BDSM stuff. Like Ray said, Fifty Shades. This is just sex. Instead Ryan answers Geoff like it’s a serious conversation. “We can’t. I tried two weeks ago, he made a joke about it. It’s not like Gavin would let him get hurt. We listen carefully during sex. We just can’t talk about it or he gets all pissy.”

And it’s gone. The great sex haze he was enjoying is completely fucking gone. “He’s right here. He’d like you to stop talking crap and fucking resume fucking!”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Case in point.”

“Nope,” Geoff says. “I have no problem with bondage, but you’re subbing. You have to pick a safeword.”

“Good thing I’m just having sex like a normal person.” Michael waves his arms around. “No stupid furry handcuffs, see!”

“You’re not, though,” Ray says. “I mean it’s hot, but really... You were holding yourself in place because Gavin told you to. That’s not normal. And if you guys always have sex like this, shouldn’t you have already figured it out? Age of the internet, baby.”

“All porn’s rough sex. That’s why it’s hot.” Michael says in an attempt to inject some logic into the situation.

Ryan makes a gesture towards Michael, but he’s still facing Geoff and Geoff’s stupid mustachioed frown. “That there made it real easy to not think anything about it. It was always so he’s a little kinky, so what? If he wasn’t I wouldn’t be in a semi-open threesome relationship. And because of our schedules we’d either be by him constantly so he wouldn’t drop, or we’d be so apart we wouldn’t notice.”

“So you’ve been purposely ignorant, forever. Gavin what’s your excuse?” Geoff’s definitely got his pissed off master magician voice on. It’d be hot if they weren’t talking crap about him.

“When I figured it out I went to Wikipedia. It’s not like I didn’t. I asked you too.”

Michael’s frustrated as hell, and he kind of wants to fight everyone in the room. But he’s also naked. With that comes cold, thank you Morrison Tower. Apparently Geoff and Jack are better at temperature regulation than he is. Their nudity doesn’t seem to be effecting them at all. Michael grabs one of the edges of blanket that Ray isn’t sitting on and drags it up and over his skin. For as expensive and imported as Geoff’s tastes are in whiskey and furniture, the comforter is a lumpy, lint covered thing.

“That was last week.”

“Before last week Michael’d never had rough sex then cared more about snuggling than getting off.”

Yeah, fuck blankets. Michael bursts out of the bed and onto his feet, each word of Gavin’s moronic comment causing it’s own mini-explosion of rage. How goddamn dare Gavin blame the insane twist in this situation on the double penetration two weeks ago? Michael knows he didn’t react the best to it, but still. He definitely did not react so terribly to cause Ryan and Geoff and Gavin to have to conspire half a month later!

“What the fucking hell? All of this bullshit is about that? I was tired! And I apologised for being weird!”

“You weren’t being weird. It’s called subspace. And if I’m right, what’s happening right now is subdrop,” Jack replies. What an asshole.

“Go fuck yourself.” Michael squats to pick up his heap of clothes and shoves his way between Ryan and Geoff.

"Where are you going?"

"Leaving.” He's still got a bed in his apartment, and the key is still on his ring. He doesn't have to be here.

"Like leaving leaving?" Ray asks.

Michael pauses at the mouth of the hallway. He turns back to face the group, and spews acidic words at everyone. Five fucking pairs of eyes looking at him in a range of confusion-irritation-sadness, like he’s the one acting weirdly. "I went through too much bullshit at home to put up with getting mislabeled ever again! I don't know if Gavin told you the story. I'm fucking certain he told Geoff and Jack, since they seem to know fucking everything!"

That’s probably not fair. Gavin had every right to bitch to Geoff about what was happening to his boyfriend, about his guilt and whether or not he should break up with him. Ray has every right to know the things about Michael’s past that Michael hasn’t told him yet. But fuck fair. Michael doesn’t give two shits about being fair right now. If everyone else can fuck him up by pulling him out of great sex to accuse him of things, he can do some nastiness of his own.

It’s not much of a surprise that Ryan follows his naked march down the hallway. Between Gavin and Ryan, Ryan was always the one more likely to go toe to toe with him.

"You're doing it right now! Your rage fits are basically the same thing. Remember Kdin? He's been on the scene for a few years and he agreed. Extreme emotions put you in subspace."

"That's who that asshole was? Some dom you got to observe me? A fucking experiment?" It’s difficult to maintain a glare while tugging a shirt over your head, but Michael does his best. By the time the ribbed collar is resting on his neck everyone else has gathered.

"He's sorry if you feel-"

Ryan interrupts Jack. "I'm not sorry. Kdin saw it too. You like subspace. You suffer through subdrop. You’re submissive, you ass. If you just labeled it we could have safer sex and we could do it more often."

It's the biggest load of bullshit Michael's ever heard. Ever. And his parents have been praying him straight for a year now. “Did Gavin tell you what made him go gay?”

Geoff crosses his arms over his bare chest. He looks dangerously unimpressed. Even with his dick out and flaccid he comes off completely serious and in control. Michael hates how much the older man’s presence makes him want to perk up and pay attention. He suppresses the urge and throws himself onto the couch. If a little voice in his head is screaming _overcompensation_ , well, sooner or later one of his boyfriends will say something stupid and he’ll be able to drown it out with his own shouting.

“Do we need to have the sexuality is a spectrum not a choice conversation or do you realise how stupid you sound?”

“Yeah, whatever. Did he though? I know Ray doesn’t know.” No, he hasn’t eavesdropped on every conversation Gav and Ray have had. Michael’s still certain Ray hasn’t been told. It’s not something Gavin likes to acknowledge.

“Hey, don’t throw me under the bus,” Ray demands. He can’t be that pissed though, he’s sitting down beside Michael. It’s more than any of the others have managed.

Michael could shrug at Ray. He could even apologise. But he’d rather say what he has to say, prove his point, and end this bullshit topic for good.

“He was having a fight with his first and only girlfriend and she said he should treat her like a princess and it kicked in right then. Like, ‘ello govner, it sure is poppycock that de muff act so bananers.” Michael finishes with a hideous accent.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Gavin went off fifty percent of the population because he has no interest in putting a person he loves on a pedestal. So why the hell would I decide to be the kind of person that needs that?”

“Don’t be a tosspot. That’s not what I meant by that story.”

“It’s not a story. It’s true. I’m not even saying you’re wrong. I understand it.”

“I think you’re wrong as dicks,” Geoff states firmly. He’s still standing in a power stance, despite Gavin and Ryan having followed Ray’s lead and sat down. Jack’s gone too, to the kitchen. It’s looking less and less like a raised jury trying to decide if they’ll convict.

Michael snorts. “Oh fucking do you? That’s interesting, considering Ryan and I were both there when he broke up with her for needing to be taken care of and cherished and shit. So what shiny goddamn ‘I can see into the depths’ master magician truth do _you_ have?”

“Do you want the truth of the world, or the truth you’ll accept?”

“Thrill me with both.”

“Attempt one: everyone is some level of dominant or submissive. It’s not a choice, like you seem to have decided it is. It’s just a personality thing. It’s perfectly natural, and every point on the range is hot to someone. Attempt two: regardless of what you think Gavin’s point on that range is, you’ve been having sex like this already. Claiming the word doesn’t change anything except give you more things to search on Redtube.”

“You know, I’d almost believe you? Except Ryan already tried to make Gavin change, be gentler after sex and all. And-”

“That shit’s good,” Jack interrupts, coming back from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. “It’s called aftercare and it’s good for both sides of the spectrum.”

Michael has a sneaking suspicion Jack’s attempting it on him right now. What was it Kdin said? Blood sugar, temperature and closeness? Fix that and everything’s all better? Whether or not he thinks it’s right, or important, there’s no denying that he’s having troubles in all three areas right now. He’s shivering cold, even dressed. Only Ray is sharing his couch and there’s a gulf between them. It’s been awhile since he had his lunch sandwich. But the white chocolate hot cocoa that he can smell from here that Jack’s prepared could fix two of the three. Three out of three even, if he’s supposed the consider that Jack went out of his way to make it, because he cares and shit.

But that swings Michael right back around to the point he was making. He picks up a mug -he doesn’t have to believe in aftercare to drink something delicious, especially when Gavin and Ray have both already practically leapt up to grab theirs- takes a swig and makes his counterpoint. “Yeah, for the Ryan type. When I tried it with Gav he asked me what the fuck I expected him to do about it.”

“That _did_ happen,” Ray confirms.

Gavin half caves in as Geoff and Jack both punch him in opposite shoulders at the same time. All the jostling spills like half of Gavin’s mug, but neither of them seem to care. Ryan goes the vocal route for his annoyance. “What the hell Gavin? You already knew BBC by then, I know you did.”

“I did! I mean- the affectionate comforting thing. I did! I tried! I said ‘what do you want me to do?’ Because I wanted to know what Michael needed. But he just got all pissy and then wouldn’t even eat Ryan’s blood sugar snack.”

“Maybe next time try not phrasing it in the worst possible fucking way,” Jack snaps.

It’s kind of nice that they’re fighting for him. Giving Gavin a bit of what he deserves and didn’t get two weekends ago. It warms Michael’s belly almost as much as the sweet drink does. He feels a lot less angry now, though the numb clarity is gone too. But they’re still arguing semantics, and Michael’s still got basic facts. Apart from the lack of rage, nothing’s really changed.

“Bottom line is Gavin hates high maintenance and hates having to be reliable and I don’t see how this submissive thing can be anything else.”

Then, in eight words, Ray changes the game. “What if you didn’t do it with Gavin?”

“What?”

“Hey, it makes sense. Ryan brought you a fucking fruit platter to get your blood sugar up. Jack and Geoff obviously know what they’re talking about. I’ll borrow my mom’s Fifty Shades-”

“Absolutely do not do that,” Jack interrupts.

“I’ll learn the thing, somehow. Be submissive with us, have normal sex with Gavin. We can handle it. Probably like it, even. I mean Jack said aftercare can be good for the dom, and he seems like the sort of person who would know, right? And Gavin stays unburdened.”

“Hey!” Gavin protests. “Fuck you. I was gonna-” He cuts off abruptly as Ryan slams a hand over his mouth.

“No one cares what you were _gonna_ , you asshole. You fucked it up, and Michael can’t trust you with that right now. Are you going to respect him, or are you going to be a jerkoff?”

Ryan makes a face and wipes his hand on Gavin’s shirt, so Michael has to guess the bugger licked it. It’s a sound strategy though. It gives Gavin the free mouth he wanted.

“I didn’t realise how much I faffed you up. That sucks.”

That’s probably as close to an apology as he’s gonna get. “‘Sokay, boi. I’m the one who tried to get...aftercare, I guess, from someone who’s not into it. My bad as much as yours.”

“It’s really not,” Ray mutters.

“I’m not not into it. I’ll prove it to you.”

Michael will believe it when he sees it. Gavin doesn’t have the determination to prove something that’s contrary to a years-long fact. But if he gives it half a try, Michael will accept it. Half a try from Gavin is like the Taj Mahal from a normal person.

Michael takes another sip of his white hot chocolate. Tasty as fuck, seriously. Jack’s got a hand for drink mixes like Geoff does for cooking. He’s just swallowing again after letting the liquid roll over his taste buds when a crucially important thought comes into his head. One that if they’re getting anywhere near this -exclusion of Gavin or not- everyone better understand. Better goddamn inject into the marrow of their bones. “This isn’t changing me. I’m not suddenly taking orders.”

Geoff rolls his eyes. “I’ve said like three times you are who you are, vocabulary or not.”

“Submissive in the sheets, bossy asshole otherwise,” Ryan says. “We get it.”

“Fuckin’ straight.” He’s not a little Christian lamb anymore. He doesn’t have to worry about being virtuous. He can be bossy as shit.

Geoff bends and without a word of warning hucks Jack’s shirt at him. It goes high and Jack barely catches it. Michael’s only a little disappointed to watch Geoff conceal his skin inch by inch. He still wants to have a sixsome, no question about it. But for now he needs a minute to settle back into his skin, and fit this new concept into his brain. Hot chocolate and dumb tv and maybe a snack just seems to him like a better alternative for the moment. And he’s not the only one, either.

“Can we get some cookies up in this bitch?” Ray hollers.

Gavin gets up and takes his mostly spilled mug with him. If he’s lucky, Jack will have made more than six cups worth.

“So if you assumed Gav had like, bondaged me, does that mean you have that gear?” Michael has to ask Geoff, who’s currently turning on Netflix. It’s not exactly taking his mind off of the whole thing to give himself time to digest, but he has to know.

Jack laughs. “Geoff’s got things you haven’t even thought of.”

Michael smirks back and logs the comment. That could bode really well for later.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the last Loverboy Diet fic. I might throw in a coda at some point, like a timestamp or a smut scene or something, but for now I've covered the plot I wanted to cover. Thanks for reading!


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